Spike lay perfictly still in the darkness. He was afraid to move, afraid he might disturb a tube or wire and send people flooding into the room. He had always hated hospitals and doctors; he just wanted to be left alone. He could hear voices in the hallway and strained to hear what they were saying. He imagined two doctors in chrisp white doctors casually deciding his fate over cups of mocca latte. He figured they would send him away, to a cozy hospital somewhere upstate, with sedating white walls. They would come in any moment and sympathetically inform him that he would spend the rest of his life drooling in a padded cell. One of the voices sounded familiar. He listened more closely and finally recognized his brother. So, they had brought in a relative in to tell him he was heading to the looney bin. Dread of the doctor's sympathetic diagnosis wuickly turned into a hope. Bubba would probably sing it to him, he might even dance a little. He could pretend to be asleep and hope that his brother would not try to wake him. No that wouldn't work; Bubba had probably been practicing the happy announcement since he had heard the news, nothing would keep him from delivering it. Perhaps when they let Bubba in he could tear at the tubes in his arms and they would send Bubba away to keep him calm. The door opened and Spike could see his brother's menacing silhouette in the doorway, but he didn't come any closer. Spike's muscles tensed as he prepared to through a fit; why was Bubba taking so long? His brother made a funny sort of gasping sound and leaned against the door frame. The light from the hallway was hurting Spike's eyes and his brother was making him increasingly nervous. Bubba took a few steps forward but stopped and stared again. He couldn't seem to stop moving his hands; finally he shoved them in his pockets. Bubba started forward again and sat in a chair beside Spike's bed. He kept his eyes down and his jaw tight; he looked almost afraid to speak. Finally without turning his head, he spoke.

"Hi," he said in a quiet, saky voice. Spike wasn't sure how to respond. This timid, scared behavior was not the reaction he had been expecting from his bully of an older brother.

"Hi," he answered. His own voice was labored and raspy; that seemed to startle Bubba even more than his appearance. This was the most Bubba and he had said to one another in months; the expression on Bubba's face told Spike he realized it as well. Bubba cleared his throat and sat back in the chair. Spike wanted to ask if they were sending him away, but Bubba didn't look ready to answer that question yet.

"How are you feeling," Bubba asked? Spike shrugged a little. The tubes in his nose made it difficult to talk. Bubba nodded and searched for another topic of conversation. As the silence drew on he became increasingly interested in the pattern of lines on his hands. "D'Von is on his way; he ought to be here soon."

"I told them not to bother you." That seemed to surprise Bubba a little.

"They didn't. I heard from someone else." This time is was Spike who was surprised. Bubba had come of his own accord? Not only that but D'Von was making a special trip as well. His entire family was dropping everything to come and see him and all it took was a near death experience. That almost made him laugh a little. Bubba noticed and sat up a little as the smile cracked Spike's lips. It was the first time he had even thought about smiling in weeks. "They told me you were in the hospital, but they didn't tell me why." Spike looked away. "What happened?" Spike didn't answer, he couldn't; he had no answer to give. He couldn't be sure exactly what happened; all he knew was what he had been told. He couldn't remember why he had taken all those pills. He must have been drunk. He didn't drink really, but you would have to be drunk to have that kind of courage. Bubba sat back, realizing that Spike had no answer to give. Bubba's phone rang and he answered. "D'Von is here," he said as he hung up,"You won't believe that, but they don't believe we're realted. Imagine that!"